Intermezzo
by lady emebalia
Summary: The Sheriff finds out about Stiles and Peter. Part five in the Play series.


**Intermezzo**

Stiles forgot his phone.

They had breakfast together, a rare enough occurrence that they both had time for it to make it special. Especially since the Sheriff had to pull a double shift today and Stiles would be over at Derek's most of the weekend for their so called play night so they wouldn't see each other at all for the time being.

Stiles left, a sly grin firmly in place, and the Sheriff went to shower and put on his uniform. When he came back to the kitchen to grab his keys, he found Stiles' phone abandoned on the kitchen table.

For a moment the Sheriff just stared at it.

Stiles wouldn't need it, he most likely wouldn't leave Derek's loft for the rest of the weekend. Or his bed for that matter. Or wherever they decided to have kinky sex this time and that was something the Sheriff really didn't want to think about.

It hadn't been easy to accept the kind of relationship his son had with the older werewolf but he had come to terms with it.

Knowing Derek and his backstory the Sheriff knew that Derek was the last person to take advantage of a teenager. And with all the things Stiles had been through, he was more mature than the average seventeen year old. At least as mature as Stiles would ever get. As far as the Sheriff was concerned the age difference wasn't an issue.

As for the BDSM part, which had been the hardest part to accept, Derek would make sure that they played in the realms of save and sane while Stiles would emphasize the consensual part of this kind of relationship.

However, this was Beacon Hills and since he knew about the supernatural the Sheriff had set one rule in place: Stiles had his phone with him at all times and he would pick up no matter what.

"Dammit, Stiles." The Sheriff muttered and checked the time. He could drive by at Derek's place and drop the phone off …

Sighing he pocketed the phone and grabbed his keys.

He had already parked his car next to Derek's Camaro when it occurred to him that chances were high that Stiles and Derek were already … busy. It was very likely that Stiles had jumped Derek's bones the second he opened the door, the Sheriff knew his son.

With a sigh and maybe a little bit of fatherly sadism, it was in the job description to ruin his son's sexy times at least once, he got Stiles' phone out and scrolled through the contacts until he found Derek's name.

Derek picked up after the second ring.

The Sheriff had a second to breathe in relief, apparently they weren't that busy yet, before his brain caught up with what Derek was saying: "Stiles? What happened?"

Blindsided by that greeting the Sheriff said nothing.

"Stiles?" Derek repeated. There was an edge in his voice as if he was expecting the worst. "Stiles, I can hear you breathing. Talk to me."

 _Stiles's not there_ , the Sheriff realized.

"Stiles, I swear, if you butt-dialed me during your play night …" Derek left the sentence open for _Stiles_ to answer but the Sheriff was too stunned to say anything. "I'm not going to listen to you having kinky sex …"

The Sheriff fumbled with the phone to end the call. Then he set in the deafening silence of his car.

Stiles wasn't here.

Looking around he noticed that Stiles' jeep wasn't here either.

So, where was he?

And more important: Who was he with? Because for sure it hadn't sounded as if Derek was the one he was seeing for tonight's play night.

But Derek had some answers.

Less than a minute later the Sheriff banged his fist at Derek's door.

"Sheriff?" The werewolf opened the door, a mildly surprised look on his face. Without a word the Sheriff brushed past him and it took him only one quick look around to confirm that Stiles really wasn't here. There was a book and a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table.

"Having a quiet evening?" The Sheriff asked.

Derek closed the door and folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for an explanation.

"Stiles forgot his phone." The Sheriff held up the phone in question.

For half a second Derek frowned at him in confusion but then realization hit him. His eyes went wide and he paled.

"Where is he?" The Sheriff asked, his voice dangerously low.

Derek huffed out a breath but didn't answer.

"Where is my son?" Taking full advantage of his uniform, the Sheriff stepped into Derek's personal space.

There was a hint of red in his eyes but then Derek's shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Peter." Was all he said.

"He's with Peter?" He had to make sure. "But it's your play night." The last part came out as a plea, begging Derek to tell him that this didn't mean what he thought it meant.

"It's their play night." Derek clarified, crushing his last threat of hope that this was just a misunderstanding. "They've been together for a while now."

The Sheriff just stared at him, his mind numb. He thought about the bruises and claw marks on his son. About rope burns and welts. He had accepted that it was something Stiles wanted from Derek and he trusted Derek to not really hurt his boy but Peter?

"He's a psychopath." The Sheriff blurted out, already pushing his way past Derek. He needed to get to his son. Now.

Derek didn't hold him back.

"Scott and I were worried, too." Derek said. "We don't understand it either but it works for them."

The Sheriff paused in his tracks, not because of his words but because he didn't know where Peter lived. He hadn't even known that Peter was still in Beacon Hills.

"You." He turned around, pointing with his finger at Derek. "You're coming with me."

To his surprise the werewolf nodded and followed him downstairs.

They took the Sheriff's car and for the first minutes they were silent except for Derek giving him directions.

"I thought he was with you." The Sheriff finally broke the silence. "I thought we were past the lying." Not that he didn't understand why Stiles was lying this time. How old was Peter? And he was Peter, psychopath werewolf who was as far from safe and sane as humanly possible. Werewolfly. Whatever.

"He didn't lie." Derek said. "Take the next one on the right."

"What?"

"Did he use my name? Even once?" Derek asked and out of the corner of his eye the Sheriff saw his eyebrows going up, making a point. "You assumed and he didn't correct you."

"That's not …" _true_ , he wanted to say but it was. Stiles said _boyfriend_ quite often or he just told him that he would be out but the Sheriff couldn't think of even one occasion when Stiles had called his boyfriend by name.

"He's Stiles." Derek offered.

When they finally stood in front of Peter's door, the Sheriff wasn't sure what to do next. His first impulse was to kick the door in but that might not be a wise idea.

"Do you have a key?"

"Yes." Derek answered but didn't move.

"Derek, I'm going in." He said. "If as a concerned father or as the sheriff is up to you."

Derek had the key in the lock, when they heard the scream.

They burst in and unfamiliar with the layout of the apartment the Sheriff followed Derek's lead to the bedroom.

The door was ajar so they didn't make a sound storming in but they both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight in front of them.

Peter lay spread-eagled on the bed, wrists and ankles securely tied to the bedposts. Wolfed-out with fangs and claws he was straining against the rope, why it didn't just break was beyond the Sheriff. There was a hint of electric blue glowing behind his eyelids and the sound coming from his throat was that of a wounded animal, raw and primeval.

His naked body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and angry red welts crisscrossed all over his torso. What really caught the Sheriff's attention, though, was an equally naked Stiles, sitting with his back to them on the edge of the bed. He was running the handle of a spoon along Peter's erect shaft.

Whatever was on the spoon, it left an inflamed red line on the sensitive flesh of Peter's penis and made Peter howl in pain.

Before the Sheriff could react, Derek was on Stiles, dragging him off the bed, away from Peter.

"Are you insane?" Derek screamed at him. "That's wolfsbane!"

Stiles blinked at him with big eyes as if he was just coming back from a place far away.

"Derek?" Stiles asked. Then his eyes fell on his father. "Dad?"

Peter whimpered and that drew Stiles attention back to him.

"Derek, let me go!" He fought the werewolf's hold on him. "I need to …"

Derek had shifted as well, his claws were digging into Stiles' naked shoulders and he let out a warning growl.

Before the Sheriff could make up his mind what to do next, Peter arched in his bonds, trying to break free.

"Stiles!" He howled and for a weird second the Sheriff was glad that the ropes were holding. The bedposts however …

Then it was suddenly Derek who was howling in pain. He was writhing on the floor with a butt naked Stiles standing over him, holding the spoon like a weapon. He had murder in his eyes.

"Get out!" He bellowed. "Both of you."

Then they were forgotten, his focus solely on Peter.

"It's okay, I got you." His voice was soothing and from somewhere he had gotten a wet towel which he now drape over Peter's abused body. Their eyes were locked and neither of them seemed to care about the audience or that Derek was still on the floor, his hands firmly pressed to his face.

"Dad." Stiles addressed him without breaking eye contact with Peter. "Get Derek out of here and wash his face. It neutralizes with water."

While he spoke, he worked the towel against Peter's skin and the werewolf relaxed under his touch.

The Sheriff had to drag Derek out of the room.

The last he saw of his son before he closed the door was him cutting the ropes that bound Peter to the bed.

"Let me see." He pried Derek's hands off his face, minding the claws, to have a look at the damage. Whatever Stiles had been using it had left an angry red welt across Derek's face. One eye was swollen shut and tears were running down his face. It almost looked like he had been pepper-sprayed.

The Sheriff dragged him over to the kitchen sink.

"This should help." He said and splashed a cupped hand of water in Derek's face. He wasn't sure what to expect but the angry red lightened immediately.

Getting the idea Derek shoved his whole face under the spray and when he came back up seconds later, water was running down his fully healed face.

When he turned on his heel to get back to the bedroom, the Sheriff held him back with one hand to his shoulder.

Derek gave the hand a pointed look.

"Let Stiles take care of him." He said and dropped his hand.

"He's …" Derek's voice broke. "That's torture."

"What are they doing now?" He asked because he was pretty sure he knew what was going on in the other room right now. Or at least what should be going on. Since he'd found out about the lifestyle he'd read a lot about it online.

Derek tilted his head, listening.

"Stiles is talking to him." He said after a moment. "They're in the shower now."

Right on cue the shower started.

"I could use a drink but I think we should stick to coffee." The Sheriff let out a sigh and turned to figure out how Peter's coffee maker worked.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

The Sheriff couldn't get the sight of his son calmly dragging the poisonous spoon handle over Peter's erection out of his head. Over Peter's rock hard erection.

"I thought it was the other way around." The Sheriff said when the machine was finally working. "You know, that Stiles was the masochistic one."

"They …" Derek cleared his throat, visibly pulling himself together. "They take turns, I think."

It was almost half an hour later when Stiles came out of the bedroom. He had thrown on his jeans but nothing else.

His face was dark, when he spotted them at the kitchen table.

"You've any idea what you've done?"

"Do you?" Derek was right in his face. "Wolfsbane? Are you insane? You can kill him with that."

The Sheriff couldn't see his face but he saw the tension in his shoulders and his hands flexing. But of course Stiles wasn't intimidated in the slightest by the angry alpha werewolf looming over him.

"It's safe." Stiles shouldered his way past Derek. "I know what I'm doing. Everything was fine before you two crashed the party."

He gave them both a pointed look before he turned to open the fridge.

"Why are you here anyway?" He tried to sound calm but the Sheriff knew his son. He was freaking out.

Stiles came up with a Tupperware container, a bottle of water and some chocolate. With his hands full he hip-checked the door of the fridge close. It looked like a practiced move.

"You forgot your phone." He said and put the object in question on the table.

Stiles stared at it for a moment but then the chocolate started to slide off the container and flailing to catch it, Stiles dropped the water bottle.

Derek caught it with ease.

"And you brought him here?" Stiles hissed at Derek. "You knew that we …" He glanced at the Sheriff.

"How about you get dressed and then go home." It wasn't a question. The Sheriff stood, hands resting on his hips. "We'll talk when I get home from work."

"How about no." Stiles threw back at him. "I'm not going anywhere. I shouldn't even be here talking to you."

"Stiles." He sighed.

"Dad, no." Stiles said, louder now. "You interrupted a scene! Do you know what that does to his head? I'm going to stay here to make sure that Peter's okay. Which means I'm going to stay the night. Probably tomorrow, too. You can ground me and yell at me later but right now I have to take care of my boyfriend."

With that he snagged the water bottle out of Derek's hand while he pressed the chocolate and the container, filled with apple slices if he was correct, to his naked chest with his other hand and stormed out of the room.

"Lock the door when you leave." He said over his shoulder and then he was gone.

The Sheriff wanted to follow him, drag him home by the scruff of his neck if necessary, but he was too stunned to move.

"Peter is crying." Derek said after a long moment of silence. "We should leave."

They left.

"I think they are good for each other." Derek said when the Sheriff dropped him off. The Sheriff said nothing.

The double shift went by in a blur but it gave the Sheriff time to think, to put some distance between himself and what had happened earlier.

When he came home late the next day, Stiles' jeep was in the driveway.

He found his son asleep on the couch with the TV running on low. For a moment he just looked at him. Stiles looked so young and innocent when he was sleeping but the Sheriff couldn't shake off the images of Stiles expertly coloring Peter's body with wolfsbane. And Peter let him.

That was what threw him off the most. That Peter let Stiles do this to him. That Peter trusted Stiles to do this to him.

"Dad?" Stiles blinked his eyes open and then shot upright when realization hit him.

"So." The Sheriff sat down in the armchair. "Peter?"

Stiles nodded.

"Is he okay?" The Sheriff asked. Peter had been crying and in pain when they had left yesterday and it had been his fault. At least partly.

"Yeah." Stiles said. "He was a bit shaken but he's fine now."

The Sheriff had read about things like sub-drop and he really didn't want to know what Stiles meant with _a bit shaken_.

"Why can't you find a nice boy or girl your age and have nice vanilla sex with them?" He pleaded, only half joking.

"Because that would be boring?" Stiles said as if that was obvious.

The Sheriff couldn't help but laugh.

"You were okay with it when you thought I was with Derek." Stiles said without looking him in the eye.

"I was." He washed a hand down his face. "But, Stiles, this is Peter we're talking about."

"He already passed Scott and Derek." Stiles countered. "Derek threw him out of a window to make his point."

Which only made the Sheriff wish harder that his son was with the alpha werewolf and not with his psychopath uncle.

"Why Peter?"

"Because I love him." Stile said softly.

The Sheriff closed his eyes. There was no argument against that.

"Does he feel the same?"

"Yes."

The Sheriff didn't know if it was really love on Peter's part but he knew without a doubt that there was trust. A trust so deep, he didn't have words for it.

He wasn't sure if he had ever trusted somebody this completely. Sure, he had loved Claudia but had he trusted her enough to give her absolute control over him? The answer was probably no.

That kind of trust was a way more solid foundation for a relationship than fleeting hormones could ever be.

The Sheriff took a deep breath and made a decision.

"You should bring him over for dinner some time."

Stiles fell off the couch with a squeak.

"That's the normal thing to do, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow at Stiles who was still sitting on the floor, gaping at him. "You bring your boyfriend and I as your father torture him with inappropriate questions." He thought about it for a moment. "Should I clean my guns or would he enjoy that too much?"

For once Stiles was speechless.

The Sheriff ruffled his hair and then went upstairs to get out of his uniform.

He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing but he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.


End file.
